The Adventure of Sherlock and The Sculptress
by Sagitarscorpion1
Summary: Join Sherlock and Watson on a wild adventure. It begins with a mystery man and ends with a self-satisfied Sherlock. What will happen when Watson gets dragged deep into the mystery and Sherlock must do everything in his power to save him. Come along for the journey, enjoy the mystery.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is a little pastiche I am writing in honor of my Sherlock Holmes Course for University. It is my first story ever, so please all feedback is welcome whether is is good or bad. This has been co-written with drevil1149, thanks for all your help.**

**Chapter 1**

It was just another typical day in London. A downpour of chilling rain water was everywhere you walked. A tall very indistinct man with a normal briefcase was walking down the street to the only place he could think of that would help him with a certain problem. He would have taken a taxi, but he was paranoid and believed that the driver would surely remember him and where he was going. The man couldn't trust anyone, with the kidnappings and murders going on he knew of only two men he could absolutely trust.

Meanwhile, in a small flat on Baker Street two men were just having a riveting conversation about a man's untimely death on the internet. One man was sitting on a arm chair next to the lit fireplace while sipping a cup of tea as he watched his friend pace around the room in one of his frantic mind games trying to decipher the murder.

"That's it! I've got it Watson, I've figured it out." the man exclaimed proudly. He was just about to explain his discovery when there was a hard knock on the door. Watson, so enveloped in Sherlock's pacing, didn't register the knock on the door until it sounded for a second time. By then Sherlock was already at the door with the intention of sending the person away so he could get back to explaining the murder. But by the first look at him, Sherlock knew this was going to be a very interesting case. He may have the look of a plain man on the outside, but he had a look of mystery and secrets in his eyes.

"Is this the residence of a Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson?" said the mysterious man at the door. By his appearance, Watson would have guessed that he was a businessman; with his black slacks, white button up shirt and large tan overcoat. To the normal eye, like Watson, he seemed a little ruffled and unsure if he should be there. He was of an average build about 180cm, black short hair with a bald spot in the middle, and he has a light skin tone.

"Can we help you sir?" Watson asked as he got up and walked to the door.

"W-w-well yes" the man stuttered back to Watson. "I received a letter stating that I should go to 221B Baker Street to meet a Mr. Holmes and a Dr. Watson, someone has taken my wife and I can only get her back with your help."

"What I do not understand is why it had to happen to me, I have never heard of you until I received this letter." said the mystery man. Watson, listening the whole time, kept wondering just who is this man in their sitting room.

"If you don't mind, who are you?" Watson inquired, even though he knew Sherlock would have a guess as to who he was.

AN: This is all I have so far, please let me know what you think. Follow me and my story if you think its worth continuing.

"That's the thing, I am nobody of any real importance." "I am just a manager at the HSBC bank in London by the Royal Opera House. "I don't really do much, but my wife, she stays home most days painting and sculpting. She is a very talented artist." said the bank manager.

"You have told us all this information, but what is your name?" Sherlock asked, putting himself into the conversation once again." "Oh yes! So sorry about that, I was so busy worrying for my wife, my name is Mr. Blackwell.

"May I have the note Mr. Blackwell?" asked Sherlock holding out his hand for the letter. "Yes you may, but how did you know I had it with me? How did you know I didn't leave it at home?" Mr. Williams pondered the look of satisfaction upon Mr. Holmes' face.

As an after comment, Watson says, "It's a secret I still don't know the the answer to."

Meanwhile the note read…

Dear Mr. Blackwell,

I have something very dear to you, does the name Jocelyn mean anything to you? It must mean something because she is your wife. You are not the first nor will you be the last to lose something, I have done it many times before, but I will let your wife go if you help me get Mr. Sherlock Holmes. He and that Dr. Watson are the only ones who will be able to help you now.

Good luck,

C-Ment

"Well, I will say this is most interesting! Will you help this 'C-Ment' person, Mr. Blackwell?" Sherlock says turning towards Mr. Blackwell.

"Well of course not, I do not want any unnecessary blood on my hands, I would like to hire you to solve my wife's kidnapping." "Please Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, please help" he says as he turns to each pleading with his eyes. "I suppose, taking up your case would be worth it, considering it involves me, very well I will solve your wife's kidnapping."

"Watson, to the Internet!" as he let Mr. Blackwell out the door. "What for?" asked Watson in return, heading to the computer on the small table by the fireplace.

"To see the other kidnappings turned murder of course." was Sherlock's quick reply.


	2. Chapter 2

** A/N: Sorry if anything about the surrounding area of London and Baker street is wrong, but I don't live in London and I have never been there. If you do not get the clue, do not worry about it, it will be revealed in time. **

As the two scoured the internet for stories on the kidnappings that turned to murder, they realized a link between all 19 cases that have happened so far in the past 2-3 years. Mr. Blackwell's wife would be the 20th case. They found that all the victims were quite intellectual in their own way. Many were fantastic artists, some were high up business men and some were brilliant scientists.

Sherlock was in one of his thinking moods, where he would lay on the sofa barely moving a muscle, just pondering with a slightly vacant expression. During these moods Watson would try to busy himself with something else or help with a case. This state Sherlock would be in for days, is a time when he did his deepest thinking of cases that are quite perplexing.

"I think I will go for a long stroll down Baker street," Watson said more to himself, he doubted Sherlock heard him leave. So he grabbed his coat, scarf and left saying goodbye to Mrs. Hudson on his way out.

While Sherlock roved through his archives of important information with in his mind, Watson headed for a walk, by the time he actually paid attention he found himself at a park bench in Paddington Street Gardens. He sat there and thought about the current case with the missing wife, when all of a sudden there was shrill screech and a thud. Watson whipped his head so fast, one would think that it would be stuck at that angle. His doctor mode kicked in and he rushed to the woman laying to the floor.

"No wonder she fell," murmured Watson as he examined the women, her shoes were 5 inch stilettos.

Watson was so entranced in his examination that he didn't notice her hand coming up to his neck and injecting a syringe into his neck. Watson fell unconscious as a mysterious white van pulled up to the pair on the park floor and whisked them away.

2 days later…

Sherlock was so ensconced with his constantly calculating mind, that he didn't even notice Watson wasn't around until he heard a hard knock on his door. At first Sherlock headed it no mind, thinking that Watson would just get the door, but when the second knock came, he started puzzled and went to get the door.

To Sherlock's surprise, Mrs Hudson was standing there looking frazzled and a letter clutched tight in her hand. Mrs. Hudson was never one to hide emotions, so Sherlock read her like a book and he automatically knew it had something to do with Watson not being here.

Mrs. Hudson handed him the letter and rushed away sobbing.

Sherlock read the letter out loud, it said…

_To the residence of 221B Baker Street,_

_This is not the first time, nor will it be the last. I have someone that I think you would want back. I believe he goes by the name of Dr. Watson. If you want to find him, you must play my game._

_Good luck,_

_C-Ment_

_Here is the first clue: _

_Follow the lights that move by fast in total darkness. At the end you will find a statue of great height. Go towards the setting sun , for there you will find the next step to free what is now mine._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello everyone who reads these and this story. Thank you for keeping up with it, I know it has been a while, but here is the next chapter.**

**Chapter 3**

Sherlock was in shock for a short moment before his pacing picked up and he re-read the letter, deciphering its meaning. There were obvious clues in the letter that suggests that he go towards the sunset, which is west. It is is also quite apparent that 'lights that move fast in total darkness' suggests the the tube must be taken to get to the destination.

"Think Sherlock, think," he whispered as he paced and tapped his chin. "Ah ha! I know where I have to go, lets go Wats- oh that's right, he's the one I am trying to find."

Not having Watson around really irked Sherlock, he was reliant even if he constantly nagged about dangerous cases. His presence is surely missed. In a hurry to find the clue, Sherlock grabbed his coat and headed out the door before Mrs. Hudson could say good-bye. He was headed straight to the tube. The one off Baker Street that leads west to Harrow and Wealdstone. Upon arriving at the end, Sherlock searched for a clue of any statues. That was when it hit Sherlock, the clue said look towards the setting sun, so he turned his head and looked up to face west. As soon as he looked up he noticed a statue on the roof of the tallest building of the street.

When he reached the top and went to the statue, he noticed it was no ordinary carved statue, it was one very roughly done, more like it was made of something else and dipped in concrete, Sherlock went for a closer look when he noticed a piece of paper wedged into what looked like a pocket. The note read:

_Hello Mr. Holmes,_

_I am glad you found this message, do you like my masterpiece number one? It was quite by accident that I stumbled on to this type of art. There is nothing better than a real show of human emotion, so here is Ms. Madeline Kilker. She was my first victim, a wonderful art student. Very talented based off her Mona Lisa replica she did when she first started off in the art business, but I prefer to have the better artwork. Follow the next clue carefully, or your poor Watson will end up like the rest of my victims._

Best wishes,

_C-Ment _

Clue number two:

Go to where the guards stand tall. Laugh and play, or move away, they always stay.

On observation of the statue, Sherlock noticed the plaque at the base. It said 'A Kilkerpiece by Anonymous,' muttered Sherlock.

On inspection of the clue again, it was quite simple to understand what the clue was referring to. The guards that stand tall are definitely the Queen's guards. They are stiff and they never move even when you do. 'This isn't difficult at all,' Sherlock thought to himself as he descended the stairs.

"Taxi!" yelled Sherlock in a rush to get to the next clue. It may be sundown already, but there is never any time to sleep when there is a Watson to save.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: And here is another chapter for you all. I am sorry for the inconsistencies in writing, I ended up changing it to first person Watson. I will go back later to the first two chapters to change them later.**

**Chapter 4**

While Sherlock traveled to his next clue, Watson has just woken from the anesthesia he was given.

When I came to, I felt distorted and groggy. I looked around from side to side. It was so dark and cramped feeling that I knew I must be in in an enclosed space of some sort, like a box or a crate by the feel of it.

"Hello! Hello! Is anyone out there? Can someone hear me?" I yelled in a panic and hit the sides of my cell.

"I can hear you," said a sweet and chilling voice; "look who finally decided to wake up."

"Who is there?" I replied back.

"I am the one that took you of course," said the voice in return. "I am called C-Ment," she laughed hysterically by his right side.

"So you are the one who sent that letter to Mr. Blackwell," I said in a panic. I feared what she was going to do to me. I hope Sherlock knows that I am missing. He is a fantastic deducer and mystery/ crime solver. My inner thoughts were interrupted when the woman spoke again.

"Of course it was me, who else would it be? Oh and don't count on him finding you, I have sent him on a little chase around London. He is playing a little game I set for him."

I scowled in my box and hoped beyond belief that he would show up soon, Sherlock is a smart man and he won't be fooled by her tricks. At least I hope he doesn't even though I would like him to find me as soon as possible. I wonder what she gave me, I can still feel tired and a little dizzy. Well it definitely wasn't any type of poison, I wouldn't be thinking these thoughts if it were. Even only a tiny portion of poison would have ended me sooner rather than later. That leaves only anesthesias, like animal tranquilizers. . Well it could be Ketamine, etorphine, or that new one Medetomidine. Maybe I should just demand it from her.

"What did you inject into my neck?" I quickly asked before she could speak again about her plans for Sherlock.

"You're a doctor, take a guess," she replied, not giving anything away.

Well there are after effects for each one I listed to myself, and she gave me just enough to be put unconscious, so I couldn't remember her face. I felt a little confused, but that could have been the fact that I woke up in a dark box. Through all my inner thoughts I kept coming up with her using etorphine, so I told her so. In a Sherlock manner, I would deduce that you injected me with about 1 mg of etorphine.

"Very good doctor, very good." Her voice didn't sound too pleased that I got it on the first guess, but I am a doctor who is well versed in anesthesias. "Now silence from you Dr. Watson, I am waiting for the right time to make my last victim a statue."

**Back to Sherlock on the clue hunt…(I would leave you there, but I have been doing that for a while now)**

By now Sherlock had arrived at Buckingham Palace and started his statue hunt. He had to look for one that was out of place among the beautiful pieces the Queen keeps. He searched and searched, but then realized to clue only talked about the guards at the gate. So Sherlock traipsed over and right next to one of the main guards was a statue made of cement. This one was odd because it wasn't a person but a large hound. Securely placed in its mouth was another note from C-Ment. Sherlock walked away from the guard with a look of concentration and headed to the street to hail a taxi. On his way he read the letter.

_Dear Mr. Holmes, _

_You are one smart man if you have gotten this far. I honestly didn't think you would get this far, but I had to write this letter just in case. How are you enjoying the Queens palace? I am the queen of my trade. Here is the craziest piece I have done. I know what you are thinking, how is a cement dog the craziest piece when all the others are people? Well it fascinates me to. Do you find it as fascinating as I do? I am surprised you lasted so long, but bear this in mind, I will get you in the end. Here is the last clue._

_Good luck,_

_C-Ment_

Clue number three:

This last place is where you would like me to be, a place I will make sure I never see. They work with partners just as you, but they could never solve the case like you. Inside on the third floor is where you will find what you are looking for.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello everyone who actually read my story. I haven't updated in a while cause I have been busy with school and I though why not put up the last chapter before I am swamped with finals. Anyways here it is, I hope you like it please follow and review.**

**Disclaimer: I keep forgetting to do this, but I do not own Sherlock or Watson, just the plot idea that I am writing. They officially belong to Arthur Conan Doyle no matter how much I wish they would be mine. **

Once again Sherlock hailed a taxi and headed to where the clue hinted to go. At the Metropolitan Police HQ, also known as the New Scotland Yard, Sherlock slipped his way past many of the officers and especially Lestrade, can't have them finding out just yet about his little chase around London. As he reached the third floor, room to room he searched for any sign of a clue or statue, but nothing turned up so far. He finally reached the last room on the floor, it was a dark room with many shelves. he realized it was an evidence room. Sherlock looked around and in the far back corner say a tall item with a blanket draped over it. He knew this had to be the piece he was looking for.

He yanked the sheet from the item and wasn't surprised to find another person caked with cement. He examined the statue and found the piece of paper he was looking for tucked into a crevice between the body and the left arm.

_Congratulations Mr. Holmes you have completed my little game, but you still have one more hunt. You still have to find your partner Dr. Watson. He will be harder to find than the other clues, but here is your hint._

Clue number four:

Think of the statues and where you have been, they all lead somewhere. What do the statues have to do with me? I'll give you a bonus clue: it has to deal with where statues are housed and schools visit. I'll give you a starting point; I took your precious Watson from a park bench in the Paddington Street Gardens.

Sherlock had an idea of what he was looking for according to the clue, but he needed help finding the one place. So he sauntered out of the room and down the stairs to the main floor in search of Lestrade. When he found him he explained the events of the past two days and asked for a map of London. Sherlock and Lestrade worked diligently to mark all the places he had visited and drew connecting lines. They found that each line stems from a certain surrounding area east of Baker Street. Looking among a list of museums in the area, Sherlock threw his hands up and shouted in success at finding the right one.

Lestrade gave Sherlock a question look as other officers just stared at the scene before them. At this Sherlock explained his findings to his colleague. "It's quite simple really, based on the clue the only museum in the radius of where all the places point is The Wallace Collection. They are known to have a large display of statues."

"Well, what are we sitting around for? We have a murderer to catch and a doctor to save." Lestrade said to his ready team; they were out the door within minutes heading to the museum.

At the entrance of the museum, Lestrade ordered his team to act natural and to not disturb the public inside. They didn't want to have a panic and the murderer to escape. Unnoticed by the police was a man in the far corner of the gallery with his black slacks, white button down and tan coat observing the scene before him.

The man hurried down the hall and down the side staircase towards the basement. He walked to the end of the hall which lead to a large housing room with crates full of art. He passed by one particular crate that he eyed for a minute before heading further back into the room.

I could hear footsteps in my dark little container I was forced to remain in. It was very uncomfortable and I was starting to get a little claustrophobic and hysterical from the long silence. I didn't dare say anything in fear of being killed by that maniacal woman who kidnapped me. I hope Sherlock gets here soon, and when he does I am going to hug him them give him a piece of my mind about taking so long. About 10 minutes passed, not that I could really keep track of it in my state, and I swear I could hear multiple pairs of footsteps. Should I call out and see if someone could help me?

My question was answered when a very familiar voice yelled "John" quite loudly. I was kind of shocked to hear the voice at first and thought that my time in this box was messing with my mind, but then there were more voices yelling my name and that is when I decided to reply. "I am over here. Please help me!" In the next moment there was a rush of feet and knocking, suddenly there was a knock on my crate and I yelled back. The crate was broken open and I squinted at the bright light that hit my eyes. The first person I saw was definitely not Sherlock, but an officer of the Metropolitan police. Sherlock was to the man's left and I sighed with relief to see a familiar face.

I looked to Sherlock as I was helped out of the box and stretched my legs. "Have you caught the woman that took me?" I asked quite curious to know. Sherlock didn't look the least surprised to hear me say that, but the officers and Lestrade were. "No, but we will soon," was Sherlocks quick reply heading towards the back of the room we were in. As everyone followed, I noticed a smaller room, to my surprise it wasn't empty. There were pieces of art laying against the walls and busts on the counters, but in the far right corner there was an outdoor roof access door.

We all ascended the stairs to the roof and found, to everyone's surprise except Sherlock, that Mr. Blackwell was standing there on the roof with a woman. I was shocked, but slowly started putting things together from my initial meeting with the man. The woman C-Ment was actually Jocelyn, the wife of Mr. Blackwell.

"Stop right there and put your hands where we can see them, no sudden movements!" Lestrade yelled to the pair near the edge of the roof. Before anyone could do anything they shed their coats with great speed and jumped over the side of the building. I rushed over think the worse when I saw two parachutes deploy. They landed behind the next building. Lestrade spewed information over the radio and signaled his squad cars to intercept Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell. As we made it down and across the street, the pair tried to make a run for the tube, but were surrounded by many police officers. I could see in their faces that they knew there was no chance of escape now, that they made a mistake of targeting Sherlock.

"Looks like your last clue wasn't true," Sherlock gave his last words before turning away and pulling me along with him. We made it back to 221B Baker Street when I finally confronted him about what had happened. He gave me a look and with a sigh recounted his trials of finding me while I gently sipped my cup of tea by the fireplace. It was quite interesting to hear of the statues that he encountered. Case closed I thought with a smile. Even after these long days of confinement, I don't think I will get tired of these adventures I find myself in since I met Sherlock. I sat looking at him across from absorbing his words. I wonder what adventure awaits us next.

**A/N: If you have any suggestions about what I should write next, please leave a review or send me a PM. I was think of doing a Harry Potter Sherlock crossover because I have been reading some of those.**


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